


When Heaven Is Beautiful

by Laura_Mayfair



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe, F/M, Reunion, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/pseuds/Laura_Mayfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU:  Laura discovers that bodily death is merely another phase in the journey of the soul. Spoilers for Season 4: Daybreak. Rated T. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Crossing

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a line from an opera by Italian bel canto composer Gaetano Donizetti, _Lucia di Lammermoor_. In the opera, Lucia comments that when she dies heaven will only be beautiful for her when she is reunited with her lover, Edgardo. The sentiment seemed fitting for Laura. Aside from that, I had to write something to reconcile myself with the events of "Daybreak."

_For me, heaven will only be beautiful when I see your face._

\- _Lucia di Lammermoor_

Laura Roslin watched the way the sun slanted through the green foliage and warmed the fragrant grass. The view from the Raptor opened and unfolded in spectacular colors, a manifold vista so wide that no arms would ever fully encompass it. Water and land stretched toward one another and touched, like the gentle brush of lovers' fingertips finding one another for the first time. Earth. Its beauty and promise pierced her heart—like a benediction.

She gathered what was left of her strength and smiled.

"So much….life," she breathed softly. When she spoke the word "life," it was a sigh of relief, of gratitude, of joy.

"It's a rich continent," Bill agreed. "More wildlife than all the Twelve Colonies put together," he added warmly as he gazed both at the vista below and at her lovely, smiling face. He turned his head for a few moments to look out the other window.

Laura's head tilted to the side and she rested one hand against her heart while the other lay in her lap as she continued to enjoy the view with half-lidded eyes. The smile remained. She would have turned to Bill to share the moment with him, to embrace him with her eyes where her arms could not. But the moment did not come. The hand that pressed against her heart grew slack and the one in her lap fell gently to her side. Her green eyes closed completely. They would never open again.

"Just looking for a quiet little place for that cabin," Bill said as he peered out the window. "Maybe a garden. I don't have much of a green thumb so I hope that you do," he chuckled.

He turned back toward her then and as soon as he looked at her—he knew with a stabbing certainty that her life had finally flickered away. He took her hand urgently between his own and kissed it with fervent affection, tears spilling down his cheeks and falling onto her still warm skin. He removed his wedding band and placed it on her finger. She was his, in every possible way that one human being could belong to another, she belonged to him—and he belonged to her. He kissed the finger that now wore his ring and cradled her hand in between his own, pressing it against his cheek while his shoulders shook with a grief that was more visceral, more painful than any bullet had ever been.

Laura watched the scene unfold from above. She could see the Raptor clearly. She rose above her body and she watched as Bill placed the wedding band on her finger. Her heart overflowed with the love that Bill felt for her and the love that she felt in return, ebbing and flowing between them, never stopping, infinitely plentiful and forever eternal.

_I will always be with you, Bill. A part of you. Always, always._

As the scene around her dissolved and faded, Laura took a portion of Bill's grief with her. It ran counterpoint to the peace that she felt. As she transitioned to the space between, she would carry it with her, never to be extinguished until they were reunited. The Raptor, the bright sun, green earth, and sparkling waters dissolved into another scene. Laura found herself in a boat that skimmed gently along the current of a river, clear as glass. The boat steered itself and Laura did not feel a trace of fear. She had a body now, or what seemed like one, and wore a long dress that was a vivid shade of periwinkle blue. She had always loved the color. Long wavy red hair fell once more past her shoulders. Her breathing, she realized, was easy and effortless. She felt no more pain. The river opened up into a wide lake and the boat drifted effortlessly toward its well maintained dock. A male figure waited for her.

Her father.

Laura sprang out of the boat with a shriek of joy well before the small vessel reached the dock. She and her father embraced at the water's edge, the bottom of her dress soaked and his shoes drenched. Edward Roslin pulled her up onto the bank. He held her face in both hands and just looked at his daughter before planting a paternal kiss on her forehead.

"My Laura-Dora," he said proudly, using the silly nickname he had called her since she was a child. "Reminds me of all the times I'd take you to the beach when you were a little girl and we'd walk along the shore. After work. Me in my suit and dress shoes. How you'd laugh when the waves would reach me. And I'd always make a fuss about my ruind shoes. Did you know I'd let the water hit me just to hear you laugh?"

Laura could barely speak and her eyes sparkled with tears. "I missed you so much," she managed finally.

"Oh, sweetheart, I've missed you, too."

"Where's Mom?" she asked, "And Cheryl and Sandra?"

"You'll see them soon," he assured her. "It can be a little overwhelming at first…crossing over. They're waiting for us. Just about a mile. We can talk on the way. You're doing all right?"

"I think so." She turned back toward the lake and scanned the horizon, thinking of Bill. "I can't go back, can I?"

Her father smiled wistfully at her. "Not the way you came, darling."

"I'm dead," Laura stated softly as she wrung out the bottom of her dress.

"Yes. But, as you can see, death isn't the end. It's a transition but not the end. You'll stay here for a while until it's time for another life, another journey."

"So this is….heaven?"

"If you want to call it that." Edward Roslin extended his arm toward his daughter. She accepted it and they began to walk down a path that Laura hadn't noticed before.

"Most call it Elysium or the Elysian Fields.," he continued. "Others…paradise. Some just refer to it as the Space Between."

"Elysium. 'Where ocean breezes blow around the isle of the blessed, and flowers of gold are blazing . Where the Honored gods are forever present, where the weary never tire. Where the lovers never have to part," Laura quoted."Had any conversations with the Divine yet?" she asked.

"Still asking the big questions," he chuckled.

She grinned at him. "Always."

"Not in the conventional sense. The gods are everywhere, Laura. We're part of the gods if you will. It's a combination of a feeling and a knowing and….something else I just can't put into words. Time and space don't work here the way they do in the universe you knew. This place is always unfolding and shifting. You help build it just by your thoughts."

"It's difficult to fathom."

"Yes. It will come."

"I need to know—" Laura stopped walking and looked intently at her father. "Is Bill all right? Will he be all right?"

"Unfortunately, I can't tell you how things will unfold for him. I can help you see him though, although he won't be able to see you and it can be…painful emotionally. For you. For him. Sometimes it's best to let go and to understand that the letting go is part of your process."

"I'll never be able to relinquish Bill," Laura told her father fiercely. "Dad, will I-," she choked; the words would barely come. Laura studied her father's face with an expression of keen longing ; the vulnerable plea in her voice tugged at his heart. "Will I see Bill again?" she finished in a tiny voice.

Edward Roslin cupped her chin. "What do you feel? Close your eyes and clear your mind; you will have your answer," he promised.

Laura closed her eyes and let her thoughts float away. At first she felt nothing and was impatiently going to open her eyes up again and say so. But then a feeling came over her so intense, so strong, that she staggered and her father reached out to steady her. A feeling of absolute certainty washed over her. She would see Bill again. They would hold one another again. She knew it. They would be reunited. It was a mathematical certainty.

"Yes," Laura said firmly, opening her eyes. She didn't attempt to hide the tears that coursed down both cheeks. "Thank the gods," she whispered with relief. "I don't feel complete without him," she explained. "It's like half of me is still…down there. With him."

Laura's father nodded and smiled at her knowingly. "I understand." His eyes twinkled. "I felt very much the same way waiting for you. You're never really complete until you're with the ones you love most." As the path turned once more, they approached a small hill lined with stone steps that led up to a house.

"The rest of the family is just up there, Laura." She glanced toward the hill and squeezed her father's hand. "It's all right," he assured her.

She smiled. "I know; I'm not afraid. It's just—I can't believe that in a few moments I'm going to see Mom and Sandra and Cheryl again. "

"Believe it, sweetheart."

Laura's reunion with her mother and sisters was just as joyful as her moments with her father. But as the sunlight began to fade, she longed to go home, although she wasn't sure what home would mean now. She knew instinctively that there was a place just for her here and she wanted to discover it. Her mother and sisters eagerly offered to help her get settled but she firmly declined their offer.

"She can't get lost, Judith," Edward smiled, watching his wife affectionately smooth Laura's hair.

"Still so much like your father, Laura. Independent and stubborn," Judith mused with a soft smile.

"Laura, do you remember what I told you about your thoughts becoming part of this place? You create the architecture and landscape here. Limitless possibility."

Laura nodded, although she didn't really understand. She hugged and kissed each member of her family in turn and departed, just as the sun set completely and a bright moon took its place, hovering over the hushed landscape.

Edward and Judith watched their daughter go, her figure pale and almost ghostly in the ethereal light as she slowly descended the stone steps.

Judith shook her head. "So much like you. She won't have a moment's true happiness until she sees that boy again. She's grieving."

"He's hardly a boy, Judith. And you're right. She won't. It's a good thing time is irrelevant here."

"Mmmm," Judith hummed as she walked arm and arm with her husband back toward the house. "Indeed it is."


	2. Wandering

I _shall keep a living memory  
always, oh my beloved, of you with me. _ \- Lucia

Laura enjoyed the mosaic of sounds that surrounded her while she walked through the freshly scented grass. It felt like so long since she had heard the chirping of crickets, the busy buzzing of insects, and the silky sway of an evening breeze. Laura heard the mellow hoot of an owl and she stopped walking to peer through the darkness to see if she could discern its shape in the tree branches above; she could just make out its silhouette in the sloping moonlight. The sapphire sky shimmered with the glinting glow of innumerable stars. They conspired with the moon and lit her way as she wandered through the peaceful twilight. Laura felt no need to hurry. It was a strange luxury, not having a set destination, a place to be, a cryptic prophecy to decode, or an emergency jump to complete. She looked up at the stars and thought of New Caprica and of Bill. The thought crossed her mind that they were not even under the same sky.

_I miss you, Bill. It's beautiful here. I saw my family today and it was completely wonderful. I should be blissfully happy but all I can think of is how much I wish you were here with me. That's so selfish, isn't it? You have the rest of your life to live. I hope that you are safe, warm, secure, and comfortable—with a good book and a generous light to read by. I know that you must be hurting and it breaks my heart to think that I can't be with you to comfort you, to help you, to figure things out together like we always do. You gave me the precious gift of a peaceful death; when your moment comes, I wish that I could be with you to reciprocate. Whatever grace is in me, whatever consolation I can pass to you—even from so very far away, please gods let it be so._

Laura had made her way back toward the lake and as she got closer to the water, she saw a log cabin in the distance. It was achingly familiar-although she knew that she had never seen it before. She broke out into a run, long auburn hair floating behind her while the folds of her dress rippled like water as she moved. It was a waking dream, at once strangely surreal and wildly vivid. Laura's feet barely skimmed the ground as she darted over the stone path that led to the front door.

A soft light shone from the cabin windows with the welcoming warmth of an old friend. Without a trace of trepidation, Laura stepped inside. She entered a cozy living room with its plush floral couch and two cream colored chairs. The room was decorated in robin's egg blue, buttery yellow, and a touch of pale coral—these were the colors of her apartment on Caprica. She spotted a vase of lilacs on an end table and brushed the tiny flowers with the tips of her fingers, leaning over to inhale their fragrance. There was an upright piano on the opposite wall, its lid closed. The dark cherry wood gleamed invitingly. Laura hesitated only a moment and then walked over to the piano, gingerly lifting the lid. She hadn't played piano in years. Tentatively, she pressed her fingers onto the keys and played a rolled chord. The piano had a lovely sound, warm and bright. She smiled.

Too excited to linger too long, Laura rushed through the kitchen with its cozy oak round table and matching chairs. Down a small hallway was the bathroom with its spotlessly clean, enticing tub. The idea of soaking in a hot bath with actual soap made Laura giddy and she almost erupted into one of her notorious giggle fits at the notion. The bedroom across the hall was almost as tempting with the plush queen sized sleigh bed, decorated in sandy beiges, earthy browns, and greens like lush forest moss. Laura flung herself onto the bed with a satisfied shriek, stretching out her body and closing and opening her eyes to make sure it was all real. Laura popped up moments later to continue her exploration of the cabin.

It was the room next door that stopped Laura in her tracks. It looked so much like Bill's quarters on _Galactica_ that Laura could not contain a gasp of surprise. She stood completely still in the threshold while she took in the view: the leather L shaped couch, the worn and familiar wood of a desk that she would recognize anywhere and its partner chair with the familiar indentation. There was the same table and four chairs with the red carpet underneath. A model ship lay forlorn and unfinished. She ran her hand along its edges and the corners of her mouth upturned into a subtle smile. The room was clearly a library; one wall was completely lined with books. Laura could envision herself and Bill curled up on the couch sharing a glass of wine. She would rest her head against the comforting sturdiness of his chest and she would feel as well as hear the soothing rumble of his voice while he read to her. Laura's throat constricted and she felt the telltale ache of suppressed tears. She swallowed them back with a defiant toss of her head.

Laura returned to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. As she stood by the counter and sipped it, she noticed a note sticking out from underneath a sunflower plant.

_Laura, call us when you get home. It doesn't matter how late. Love, Mom & Dad_

Underneath there was a phone number. Laura looked around and spotted the telephone on the other end of the counter. She dialed and put the phone to her ear. Her mother picked up on the second ring.

"Hi Mom. I'm home safely," Laura told her mother, trying to sound as cheerful as she could. Judith perceived the emotion in her daughter's voice.

"Are you all right? I could come over and stay with you tonight if—"

"No—thanks though. I really appreciate it. But I'm fine."

There was a pause. "You don't sound fine, sweetie."

"It's all a little overwhelming," Laura admitted. "I just need to get settled. It's more than I could have hoped for. Seeing you and Dad and my sisters….I can't tell you how happy that makes me."

"Laura, it's all right, you know. It's normal what you're going through. It's a transition, honey. We've all been through it. So don't feel like you have to apologize or pretend that you're fine. I'm you mother and I can see right through your clever little smoke screen," Judith Roslin teased.

Laura gave a quiet laugh. "Did you know about this place, Mom? I mean…the cabin."

"Yes but…it probably looks different now than it did before you arrived. Things are very fluid here. They shift and change. Do you have everything that you need?"

_No. Not everything._ Laura sighed softly. "Yes, I think so."

"Tomorrow we'll go shopping and you can pick up anything that you want. Also, don't be surprised if you start seeing some old faces. I expect you are going to have a lot of visitors soon."

"Oh. All right. There are certainly people I'd love to catch up with." Laura was quiet for a moment. "Mom, how did you know that I was coming?"

"It's a sense you get. Sometimes there are signs. Sometimes you just get a general sense that someone is coming and you need to get to the docks but you don't know exactly who it is. Other times, you know who will be arriving. Still other times, it's a complete surprise. There's not a great deal of rhyme or reason to it. In your case, your father and I knew when you would arrive, very shortly before you came."

"Did you know what was happening to me during my life?"

"Generally, no. Occasionally….a glimpse. Of course as people arrive here, you hear things from them. Dad and I would always try to get any news about you that we could from new arrivals."

"Okay, that helps me get a sense of things. Thank you—for answering my questions."

"Of course; ask me anything you want."

"You know I will. Expect many, many more."

"I'd love to see you and your place tomorrow. I'll come over around noon. I'll bring lunch. If that's all right."

"It's more than all right, Mother. It's perfect; thank you. I love you."

"I love you, too, dear." There was a rustling sound and then her mother's voice sounded farther away. "Your father is commandeering the phone!"

"I just wanted to say goodnight, sweetheart. And to tell you how good it is to have my Three Graces back," Edward Roslin told his daughter affectionately. Laura smiled. She had almost forgotten about that. Her father often referred to his daughters as the Three Graces, ancient goddesses of joy and good cheer.

"Which one am I again?" she asked, already knowing the answer but liking the way he would tell it.

"You are Aglaia. Your name means 'splendor.' 'Brilliant, shining one.' You are supposedly a keeper of beautiful gardens but um…we all know what you do to plants and flowers, unless you've developed a green thumb and forgot to tell us."

"Negative. As I warned Bill, I am dangerous to all wild and growing things." Laura suddenly remembered that she had never actually gotten a chance to tell Bill about her lack of horticultural skills. She brushed away the bleak thought with humor, "I still can't cook worth a damn either. But who knows? With all this time on my hands maybe I'll actually learn to be domestic."

"Somehow I doubt that even eternity will be long enough to endow you with…"

" _Dad!_ Thanks for the pep talk," she laughed.

"Always. Goodnight, Laura. Call anytime if you need anything at all."

"I will. Goodnight, Dad." She hung up the phone.

Laura decided that she was too tired for a bath; she was afraid she'd fall asleep in the tub. She then realized what a ridiculous thought that was. _I'm dead. I can't die twice. Hmmm, I'll have to find out how this all works._ She settled for a quick shower, just in case. Afterwards, she walked from the shower to the bedroom in her towel and wondered what she would wear to bed. She was pleasantly surprised to find that her bedroom closet was full of clothes.

Half of them were for Bill.

Laura ran her hands along the neatly pressed fabric of some dress grays. Burying her face in the collar, she inhaled deeply. But they didn't smell like Bill. They smelled good-clean and fresh and invitingly crisp-but they lacked that elusive quality that was Bill's scent, a wonderful mixture of spice and citrus, mixed with something else that she would never be able to name that was just _him_. With a sigh, Laura slipped on a soft, ice blue silk nightgown and slid into a lonely bed that suddenly seemed much too empty.

_Goodnight, Bill. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, I'm thinking of you._ She rested a hand lightly over her heart. _You're right here. Always._

Laura never realized how accustomed she had grown to the steady, unchanging hum of Galactica's engines. The persistent white noise was a constant, as much a part of the ship's atmosphere as the long hallways and monochrome walls. She missed the familiar hum as she tried to fall asleep. Eventually, after some tossing and turning, sleep finally came and she rested through the night.

Laura awoke to sunlight streaming through the windows and to the sound of voices. A woman's and a man's. But she couldn't quite make out more than an occasional word. The woman was reassuring the man, encouraging him to do something that he was apprehensive about. The sounds of voices and footsteps grew closer.

"…bad idea. ...if she's…not….to see...More time," said the male voice.

The woman laughed. "Stop…a….she'll be….now get over…."

The footsteps suddenly ceased and Laura heard a declamatory knock on the door to the cabin. Laura quickly pulled on the robe that matched her nightgown and ran a cursory hand through her bed-tousled hair. She opened the door to see Kara Thrace and Samuel Anders standing on her doorstep. Sam was carrying a small basket draped in white cloth and he looked as if he hoped that the ground would swallow him up. Kara threw her arms around Laura Roslin and gave the older woman a very thorough, extremely spontaneous, and completely Kara-like hug. Like everything Kara did, nothing was done halfway. The force of the embrace nearly knocked Laura off her feet.

"Whoa, Kara," Sam scolded her. "Take it easy. Sorry, Madame President," he apologized. "My wife is still…."

"Extraordinary?" supplied Kara with a cheeky grin.

"Insane," he corrected her.

Kara merely laughed and released Laura. "Don't pay any attention to him," she cautioned. "He's afraid that you're going to try to airlock him but I assured him that you're way past that."

"Kara-," Sam pleaded—too late.

"I didn't know if you'd seen any Cylons yet," Sam explained with a flustered expression. "I wasn't sure how you'd react about sharing the afterlife with a bunch of—"

"Old friends?" Laura supplied. And with that, she wrapped her arms around Sam Anders and gave him a warm hug. "I'm glad you're here," she said sincerely.

Kara gave her husband a look that clearly said _I told you not to worry, you idiot._

"Come on in," Laura said. Almost shyly, Sam handed her the basket. Laura lifted a corner of the white linen cover. The basket was filled with still-warm cinnamon buns-and they smelled and looked amazing.

"Oh, my gods…these smell so good," she smiled.

"Yeah, we figured you were tired of algae." Kara made a gagging noise. " Sam made them. If I'd made them, they would have been hockey pucks with icing."

Laura gave Kara a conspiring smile. "Me, too, Kara. I'm not exactly at home in the kitchen."

"That's okay; the Old Man is a really good cook," Kara said as Sam elbowed her. "Oh—that's right. He's not here yet. I'm sorry, Madame Prez."

"That's all right, Kara. It's good to talk about him. But it's just Laura now. You don't have to refer to me by a title that no longer applies."

"You'll always be Madame President," Sam told her with a nostalgic affection and respect that Laura found touching.

Laura smiled mischievously. "We'll see if you sing the same tune after you really get to know me."

Laura invited them to sit down at the kitchen table. "I'm not sure what I have to drink besides water. I haven't looked."

Kara peeked inside the refrigerator and opened a few cupboards. "Looks like you're pretty well stocked."

"You ladies sit," ordered Sam. "I'll make coffee."

"Show-off," accused Kara, tossing him a bag of coffee and then a box of filters.

"Get out of my culinary space," Sam growled and gave his wife a playful swat on her bottom.

"Domestic abuse! I even have a witness," Kara teased. She sat down at the cozy round kitchen table next to Laura. The two women talked. It wasn't long before the smell of brewing coffee filled the room. Sam returned shortly with a tray, complete with coffee pot, cream, sugar, plates, spoons, napkins and mugs. When Laura took the cream from Kara to pour into her coffee, Kara grabbed Laura's hand and stared at the familiar band on her finger.

"You and the Old Man finally made it official. Took you two long enough," Kara chuckled. "Congratulations!"

Laura simply smiled and nodded, her eyes suddenly glossy. "Yes. Bill and I—we—" It seemed like far too intimate a moment to explain, the way Bill had slipped his ring on her finger only moments after her soul had left her body. When she had arrived in Elysium the ring had simply been there. She looked at her hand and a single tear slid down one cheek. "—got married." It was true, after all. Bill was her husband in every sense of the word. To have someone else see it and acknowledge it made it all the more real. It made her glow with happiness and pride. _Bill's wife._ But it also highlighted the brutal pain of their separation.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Sam said comfortingly.

Laura nodded and took a tiny bite out of her cinnamon bun. "These are really delicious, Sam. Thank you."

"Sam and I are going bar hopping tonight. You should join us."

Laura shook her head. "Thanks. But not tonight." She glanced at her ring again. "Another time," she murmured softly.

Kara jotted down her number. "We're just across the way. If you change your mind, call us."

"Thanks."

An hour later Sam and Kara walked home together, hand in hand. "I feel so bad for her," Sam commented. "Damn….the look on her face. It's heartbreaking."

"Yeah…it pretty much sucks," Kara agreed. "It kind of makes you wonder. If she's this bad up here, I wonder how the Old Man is down there. He's a tough old bird but….frak. Hey, but at least we both know the good news is that he _will_ be here. Eventually."

Kara closed her eyes for a few moments. When she opened them, Sam caught the tiniest hint of a smile on Kara's face. He grabbed her and stopped her by placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Kara Thrace. You know something. Spill."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Anders," answered Kara evasively. "However, how would you like to see some fireworks before we hit the bars tonight?"

"Fireworks?" asked Sam suspiciously.

"Mmm hmmm. Fireworks."

"I'm game."

Kara slipped an arm around her husband and began to whistle.


	3. Rapture

**Rapture**

_When filled with the rapture of ecstasy,_  
with burning adoration,  
it is a silent language only our hearts speak.

 _I pledge my everlasting devotion._  
He swears to me eternal faith,  
and my sorrow is forgotten,  
my sadness becomes joy...

_When I am with him  
it is as if the heavens themselves open up for me. _

_Lucia –_ _**Lucia di Lammermoor** _

The afternoon passed in a rush but without the hectic bustle of Caprica. Laura found the surrounding town to be quaint and pleasant. There were plenty of people out and about but the stores were not overcrowded, the lines were not too long, and the traffic flowed along easily and smoothly. Laura's mother and sisters spent the day with her and they concluded an afternoon of browsing and shopping with a stop at a tiny little coffee shop called "Demeter's." Laura sipped a cup of tea spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg with a hint of ginger, but she left the decadently fluffy lemon merengue pie in front of her mostly untouched. Food seemed to stick in her throat like mud. She smiled and laughed with her family but a part of her still felt hollow inside.

After they stopped for tea, Laura spotted a jewelry store and she knew that she wanted to look around—by herself. She hugged her mother and sisters and told them to go on ahead without her, promising that she would get home safely. She thanked them profusely for a wonderful afternoon and explained that she wanted to explore a little bit on her own.

A little bell chimed as Laura opened the door to the jewelry store. A pleasant faced shop owner made his way over to her. He wasn't a handsome man but he had a kindly face and immediately asked if he could help her with anything. Laura noticed that, despite being hunched over and walking slowly because of it, he moved with considerable fluidity and grace.

"Is the lovely lady looking for anything particular?" he asked with a cordial nod of his head.

"A wedding band. For my husband."

"Ah, yes. Silver, gold, or platinum?"

Laura thought about it for a moment. "Gold."

"A classic choice. White or yellow?"

"Yellow."

"Right this way." The shopkeeper beckoned her over to a glass case. He unlocked it and pulled out the black velvet padding that held the rings, placing it on the counter in front of her.

"Take all the time you need."

Laura browsed through the gleaming rings. They varied in size and shape, from simple to elaborate, and everything in between. The workmanship was remarkable. Each ring was wholly unique. She was having a difficult time making a selection. She kept narrowing down her choices little by little until she finally knew which one she wanted for Bill. She chose a beautiful gold band with elegant closed panel knotwork. The design was unique enough to be distinguishable from your average, every day wedding band but simple enough to maintain a classic yet unfussy style.

"This one. Could you engrave the inside?" Laura asked.

"Absolutely. What would you like it to say?"

Laura scribbled something down on the back of one of the shop's business cards and handed it to the shopkeeper. He read it and smiled.

"I'm not so sure about his ring size," Laura suddenly realized.

"Don't worry about that; I guarantee it will be a perfect fit."

"What do I owe you and how soon could I pick it up?"

The man gave an impish smile. "You should know by now that you don't owe me a thing. We have no currency here. Give me ten minutes and I'll have it engraved for you."

"Thank you." The man disappeared into the back. While he was gone, Laura looked through a few jeweled hair combs. She was admiring a set of peridot butterfly combs that were such a lovely shade of green. The shopkeeper returned shortly and handed her a black velvet box. The ring was tucked inside. Laura admired his careful craftsmanship and the intricacy of the engraving.

"It's perfect," she exclaimed happily.

"I'm glad you're pleased. Here—these are for you as well." He opened her hand and placed the set of combs inside her palm and then closed her hand around them.

"I couldn't—"

"You certainly could. Your red hair complements them to perfection."

"You're very kind."

"It's my pleasure. Please come back again."

"I certainly will. And again—thank you."

When Laura arrived back at the cabin, she admired the ring one more time before tucking the small black box into the back of her dresser drawer. She stretched and yawned and decided to curl up with a book. She browsed through the shelves in the library until she found what she was looking for, a copy of _Searider Falcon_. Reading it again would make her feel closer to Bill. She tucked her feet in and sat comfortably at an angle on one side of the sofa. After about a half hour of reading, Laura dozed, the book open and face down on her chest. She hadn't meant to fall asleep but she really didn't sleep so well the night before. And it wasn't long before she began to dream.

She dreamed of Bill. He was lying in a dilapidated bed and he was covered up with the same red blanket that Laura had been wrapped up in at the end of her illness. It was tattered and threadbare. Even in the dim candlelight, Laura could see the beads of perspiration that dotted his face and forehead. It was pouring outside and Laura listened to the heavy raindrops splattering against the roof. Bill's eyes were closed and he was breathing very quietly. Capturing his wrist, Laura felt his pulse. It was steady but slow. She placed the back of her hand against his temple. He was burning up. Laura looked around and found a canteen that was half full of water. She ripped off a piece of fabric from the bottom of her dress and made a makeshift rag which she dipped in the water. She wrung it out and dabbed his forehead and pulse points. Maybe if she could get him into a tepid bath she could bring the fever down. She leaned over and pressed her lips against his forehead; the heat of his skin burned her mouth. Her sense of panic began to rise and she was about to look around to see what other provisions there might be that she could use to help him when Bill stirred with a plaintive groan. His eyes opened partway, listless and unfocused, and when he spoke his speech was thick with exhaustion.

"Laura…." The one word was spoken with doubt and disbelief, hope and longing, and an aching emptiness that Laura knew only too well.

"I'm right here," she assured him with a catch in her voice. She kissed his forehead again and then his cheek. Bill reached for her hand and shivered when he removed his arm from the blanket. When he clasped her hand in his, he held onto her tightly.

"Stay," he pleaded.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised as she gently threaded her fingertips through the damp strands of his hair.

Laura watched as Bill stubbornly fought to keep his eyes open but they refused to obey. He moaned her name one more time before they closed again and Laura felt his grip on her hand loosen until, smiling, he released her completely.

"Bill!" Laura shot up from her sleeping position on the couch as if someone had hit her with a bucket of ice water. She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her chest and she panted. She took a few slow breaths and steadied herself. The dream had felt extremely vivid, like her visions of the opera house when she had been alive. Springing up off the couch, Laura didn't even bother about shoes. She ran barefoot out of the cabin to the place where her boat had first brought her here.

It was midafternoon when Laura arrived. The dock was empty. She sat at the edge of the lake shore and dipped her feet in the water, waiting. She sat for hours, long after the sun had set and the last streak of golden light had faded. Maybe it had been just a dream after all, she reasoned. Finally, after much pacing and waiting, she reluctantly began her walk home, her heart as heavy as the feet that carried her.

Unbeknownst to Laura, she had visitors back at the cabin. Only a few feet from the little garden in the back, there was an outdoor wooden shower—completely enclosed. Inside, Kara Thrace sat, in her little black evening dress, on Sam's lap.

"This is crazy, Kara," Sam protested for the hundredth time. "She's not even here."

"She will be," Kara promised confidently. "I promised you fireworks and you're going to have them. You'll see. Don't you feel it, Sam? Something electric stirring in the air?"

"What I feel," Sam grumbled irritably, "is that I'm trespassing on private property and stalking this poor woman for the benefit of your entertain—"

An outside light suddenly turned on. "Shhh,' Kara ordered and clamped a hand over Sam's mouth. "Someone's coming."

Laura Roslin opened the screen door and stepped outside, her feet still bare. She carried a few packets of seeds, a watering can, and a small garden shovel. She hadn't planned to try her hand at gardening at night but she needed to do something to keep her mind occupied. She had picked up a few items for the garden when she had been out with her mother and sisters earlier and decided to plant some primroses. The evening breeze was cool and she had pulled a beige button down sweater on over her cream colored summer dress that was covered in crimson flowers. She knelt down in the grass at the edge of the dirt and threaded her fingers through the soil. She faced Kara and Sam who had a decent view of her through an opening in the door hinges of the shower. Laura's back was to the cabin.

Kara and Sam saw him coming up behind Laura before she had time to notice the shadow that he created against the outside light. Bill Adama watched her for a few moments before speaking; the expression on his face was one of transcendent joy.

"I didn't think I'd find you out here playing in the sand," Bill announced with quiet tenderness.

Laura stopped. In a mere second, her entire body went completely still. She was afraid to turn around, afraid that the voice of the man she loved was just in her imagination and she couldn't bear it. But she didn't need to do a thing. Bill was next to her in the flash of a heartbeat. She felt him before she saw him as he dropped to his knees behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her tightly against his body. He didn't know if the first choked sob belonged to her or to him but it didn't matter. He buried his face into the curve of her neck and felt her body shudder against him. She twisted around and flung both arms around his neck clinging to him like a life line. They both talked at once but the words were unintelligible through the muffled filter of tears. He found her mouth with his own and kissed her with a need that was blinding. Laura answered with a half moan, half sob as she tilted her head and parted her lips, both hands caressing his face. Bill's hands pressed into the small of her back, pulling her even closer. For a few minutes, the only sounds were their mingled breathing and urgent kisses. Without missing a beat or breaking contact with her in the slightest, Bill picked Laura up and carried her inside. Neither of them bothered to turn off the outside light or slide the screen door closed.

Even Kara Thrace was at a loss for words as the reunited pair disappeared into the cabin. After a few moments, she broke the silence. "That was sweet….and hot." She fanned her face. "I didn't know the Old Man had it in him."

"Keep your voice down, Kara," Sam whispered. "They might hear you."

"Uh, Sam….you really think the two of them are even remotely aware of anything other than one another right now?"

"Point taken. Oh, man, I'm getting mental images. We need to get out of here, Kara. They're probably just holding hands, right? Please tell me they're just holding hands."

Kara rolled her eyes. "Sure, Sam. I'm sure they're just having a nice polite and chaste little chat— _after they practically devoured one another in the flower bed!"_

Sam covered his ears and closed his eyes. Kara laughed and grabbed his hands. "Let's head off before Adama _goes_ off."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. Hey, how did you know where and when he'd show up?"

"I don't know….I just knew. Aren't you glad? I did promise you fireworks and I delivered."

"That you did. Now, Mrs. Anders….the night is young and the ambrosia is flowing; how about it?"

"Only if you think you can keep up," Kara teased as the two ran off into the night.

Both of them too impatient to make it to the bedroom, Bill and Laura consumed one another on the living room couch. Afterwards, they lay blissfully entwined in one another's arms, a trail of clothing scattered from the kitchen screen door to the living room. Laura planted a quick kiss on his collarbone. The palms of her hands rested against his chest and her chin rested against her hands; their faces were a mere inches apart.

"Well, that answers my first question," Bill stated huskily.

Laura arched an eyebrow at him. "Which was?"

"Can you still make love in heaven?"

"That was your first metaphysical inquiry in the afterlife?" she teased.

He kissed her long and slowly on the mouth. "I have my priorities."

Laura shivered and made that little humming sound that Bill adored. "Would you like a tour of the cabin?"

"Mmmmm, but you're going to have to give me an incentive to get me up off of this couch."

"How about the promise of certain activities as we make our way through the rooms, hmmm? How does that sound?"

"If I weren't already dead, Laura Roslin, I swear—you'd kill me," Bill lamented with a hearty laugh.


	4. Epilogue

_Our loving hearts alone are temple and altar. Take this ring. You are mine. I am yours. -_ Lucia

They lay in bed together. Laura was nestled against Bill's chest, his chin pressed against the top of her head. Dawn was only just beginning to break. There was only the faintest amount of light streaming in, just enough to announce the arrival of morning. Neither of them had slept.

"Bill?"

"Mmmmm."

"How long was I gone before you died? How much time passed?"

"Nearly a year."

"For me it was only a day. A very lonely day. I'm so sorry that I couldn't be there for you."

"Not your fault. It was a difficult time," he admitted as he stroked her hair. That was an understatement. But he loved her too much to dwell on how hard that year had been without her. It was beyond their control; he didn't want to make her feel any worse than she obviously already did. "There were moments when I felt you, as if you were very close. I think that's what got me through it. Those times when I was sure that you were with me. At the very last moments of my fever, you were really there, weren't you? That wasn't a hallucination."

"I was there. I don't understand how but I know that I was with you."

"You were holding my hand." He kissed the top of her head. "I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was lying on the couch in the living room here—in this cabin. I walked outside and saw you."

"I don't understand what all of this is or how long it will last, Bill, but I'm so grateful for it. Let's make the most of this time together. Bill linked his fingers through hers and noticed the gold wedding band. He traced it with the tip of his finger.

"When I arrived here, I was wearing it," Laura explained. "So I hope you meant it, Mr. Adama," she teased with a coy smile. "Marriage that transcends life, death, and the space time continuum is serious business," she added in her best teacher voice.

"When you put it that way… I guess I'm stuck."

_Thwack!_

Laura whacked him in the head with her pillow. It was a direct hit. With practiced ease, she lifted the pillow up to strike a second time. Undaunted, Bill made a quick grab for her and aimed his counterattack at her rib cage. He began to tickle her.

"Very unwise, Madam President. I know the spots where you're most vulnerable." He tickled her mercilessly, deft fingers beating feather light drum beats along the silk of her nightgown. His handiwork sent vibrations and ripples of laughter throughout her body. Bill shifted on top of her, grabbed her wrists, and pinned her playfully underneath him.

"Oh, gods Bill," Laura giggled adorably. She was utterly beautiful with her bright eyes and flushed face. Bill kissed her on the nose. Holding her in place, he continued to assault her with a barrage of tiny kisses, down her neck and throat, then along the indentation of her collarbone.

"Surrender or suffer the consequences," he threatened amiably.

"Sounds like I win either way," she answered softly, her voice breathy.

Bill released her wrists and Laura eagerly reached up for him. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his face down toward hers.

"I love you," she declared with her lips against his mouth, just before she kissed him.

"I love you, too, Laura," he answered, his voice warm and low.

"Now, _husband_ , I have something for you but you're going to have to let me up."

"If I must." Bill flashed her a smoldering smile and rolled gently off of her. "Remember my willingness to negotiate."

"Oh, I'll remember, Bill," Laura promised. Bill had the distinct impression that this little sparring session was far from over and that his wife was already plotting her revenge. He watched her slip out of bed. The little red slip of a nightgown she wore emphasized every delicious curve of her body. She opened a dresser drawer, reached in to the back, and pulled out a little black velvet box.

Bill sat up in bed and Laura sat next to him at an angle, facing him, one leg tucked underneath her and the other one dangling over the side of the bed. Shyness and pride mingled on her features as she handed him the little box.

"Of course, I didn't know when you'd arrive but when you did—I wanted you to have this," Laura told him.

Bill opened the lid of the box and his heart swelled with love for the woman next to him when he saw the gold band. A wedding band. Laura. _His wife_.

"There's an engraving inside."

Bill angled the inside of the band so that the light hit it and he read the inscription: " _It's about time,"_ he choked. He slipped the ring on his finger and grabbed Laura, pulling her close. He held her for a long time and he didn't hide the fact that he was crying. There were no secrets between them; he could show her all of himself. The months after her death had been extremely difficult. To be reunited with her and to finally be able to be together—was so extraordinary and wonderful.  There were no words for it.

"Thank you. It's perfect," Bill murmured as he stroked her cheek with the curve of his hand. "I'm not sure what all this is or what comes next. But I do know that however little or long we have, Laura, I plan to cherish every moment as long as you're here with me."

 


End file.
